


After Adamant

by laugan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adamant, Consolation, Dragon Age Quest: Here Lies the Abyss, Established Relationship, F/M, Fanart, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, post-Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laugan/pseuds/laugan
Summary: A drabble that went along with a piece of fanart I did.





	After Adamant

That look they gave her. As though her word were a gospel, a scripture, ancient wisdom to be followed en masse. 

_Your worship._

Elliana hated it. She didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it. It wasn’t as though she knew what she was doing, and yet they treated her as though she were Divine and not just some Dalish mage who opened the wrong door at the wrong time.

It didn’t matter though; she was here, this was her duty, and she would do her best to not let them down. For letting them down could mean the end for all. A victory for Corypheus. A heavy burden to bear.

The anchor crackled, sending the faintest tingle up her arm, like tiny spiders. She felt her knees threaten to buckle as she stepped from the platform where she’d spoken to the surviving troops at Adamant. Where all those eyes had looked on longingly for what to do next. Erimond was in custody, the arch-demon, while not dead, wasn’t an immediate concern, the Wardens would be exiled from Orlais for their own good and for the protection of the people, and…

And the Fade.  _The nightmare._

Elliana took a shaky breath and made her way towards the makeshift barracks. How she’d sleep tonight with  _that_  in her head, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps Solas could help. He always had a way about him. She found herself eager to return to her tent, to strip off the filthy, heavy layers of battle and curl up beside him as he whisked her away from this place. As if on cue, his soothing, warm voice called for her.

“Vhenan.”

From the shadows of the crumbling corridor that led to the battlements overlooking the sandy wastelands of the Western Approach, he came, calm as ever, as though the Fade had little effect on him. Elliana looked around, much like he did, to see if anyone was coming their way, to interrupt either of them with some last minute request or question. With a slight jerk of his head and an air about him that instantly eased her, he beckoned her towards the ramparts and she followed, not even sure how her legs moved, the hollow yet heavy husks they were. Everything felt heavy.

Despite the rift being closed, lingering Fade light drifted like a green fog over the fortress, mingling with the now-tamed fires that had sprung up during battle. Laughter floated up towards them, as men and women celebrated around their campfires. The air was cooler than she remembered. A chill ran through her.

“The Divine Justinia—or her spirit?—whatever it was, she—Stroud—” 

Her voice faltered and she closed her eyes, digging the heels of her palms into them as she tried to ignore the hellish images dancing behind her lids.

“Surviving a physical journey into the Fade is sure to take its toll on everyone.” Sensing her growing unease, Solas attempted to lighten the mood. “Sera should be an interesting travel companion as we make our way back to Skyhold. Bull as well. I look forward to those conversations.” A weak chuckle.

She wasn’t listening though.

“All of that…” Elliana trailed off, her face scrunching up as she looked at him, the confusion and pain twisting her brow tightly.

Solas studied her for a moment, in that way he always did, and she turned back to the black abyss before her, shaking her head. Not even the stars wanted anything to do with what happened here. She bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to fall.

“It was real. All of it was real.”

“It was.”

“A physical nightmare—not one that you can just open your eyes and  _poof_ it’s all gone, fading away as quickly as it came. I can still feel it.” She stretched out her arm in front of her, turning it over and watching the anchor crackle faintly. “Still smell it. What a horrid smell, it burns as real as the sulphur pits.”

The twinge from the anchor seemed to ease as Solas took her still outstretched hand and gently pulled her close as she continued to speak. She had found in all those late nights she’d spent curled on the couch of the rotunda as he worked on the mural, talking of the day’s events, that he was just as good a listener as he was a talker.

“We shouldn’t have been there. How did we get there? I don’t know what I did, what this  _thing_  did. One moment Clarel is trying to kill that blasted beast as it stalked closer, the next we’re falling—chunks of stone hurtling towards us, as  _we_ hurtled to the ground. And I saw you, you were so close as we fell, but I couldn’t do anything about it, about you, about us, about all of it. And then—”

“And then it saved our lives, lethallan.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head as he cradled it, pulling her closer still. “Take a breath, don’t try to fight it. You are meant to experience these feelings, these sensations. Watch them from afar as they wash over you, and see that you  _will_  be okay. You carry a heavy burden. Stop for a moment and face it. You are strong.”

Elliana clutched him then, burying her face in his furs, as she tried to hide from this world, from  _that_  world. Solas held her, watching the flickering of the campfires below as she sobbed at last. How long they stood there, he couldn’t recount, but after a time he felt her shoulders relax.

Her pale blue eyes were rimmed in red when she looked up at him, the kohl around them smeared and faded. His lip twitched in the faintest of smiles as he ran a thumb over her cheek, only succeeding in smudging it further across her freckles.

“Take me someplace, Solas.”

He kissed her forehead softly, lingering. “Where would you like to go?”

“Anywhere but here. Or there.”

“Ma nuvenin, ‘ma’lath.”

* * *


End file.
